


Playground Mischief

by DrummerDancer



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1408396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrummerDancer/pseuds/DrummerDancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had an awful taste in friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playground Mischief

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Playground Mischief  
> Author: drummerdancer  
> Verse: None  
> Characters/Pairings: Roy/Riza, two unnamed kids, mentions of/implied Ed/Female  
> Word Count: 531  
> Prompt 258: Where the Wild Things Are  
> Rating: K  
> Summary: He had an awful taste in friends.

There was a playground that could be seen from his office window, to the east of the pavilion and to the west of the line of shops running downtown. It was surrounded by trees and a fence, partially blocking its view from people passing by. But, from up high, Roy could see inside its walls; a maze of colored tubes stretching up some ten feet, surrounded by miniature lookout towers and twisting slides that went on for miles in a child’s eye  _(the work of an alchemist_ , he mused); a metal swing set with seats paired off in twos, with plenty of mulch underneath to catch failed landings; and a sandbox, where he imagined there to be a treasure trove of trucks and toys waiting to be unearthed and rejoined with the living world.

There were a dozen or so kids already out there, running wild between the swing set and the play place like they couldn’t decide which one was better and thus needed to continuously try both in hopes of reaching a conclusion to the answer that eluded them. Only two kids were at the sandbox; one, a small boy with tangled blond wisps jutting from his scalp like spikes, and the other, whose hard eyes followed the smaller boy’s movements like a hawk as he sat in the sand, his arms crossed. The blond had a stick—one that had probably fallen from one of the trees bordering their playground—and was drawing with it, etching a circle into the sand.

Roy pressed his lips into a flat line. He should have seen this coming. No spawn of Edward Elric would be anything less than a prodigy. The kid was already stepping back to show his audience his impeccably drawn circle, not a curve out of place. What’s more, there were two perfect squares drawn in the middle, one inscribed in the other. Another circle laid inside the first one, completing an array perfect for creating structures out of sand and clay minerals. Roy watched in dread as he started pointing at the lines, explaining the parts to his friend like a good teacher would to his student.

The child nodded, then started to reach out to touch the array. Roy nearly jumped out of his seat in panic but then settled down when he saw the blond quickly kick a line through the array, rendering it useless.

_So he’s not as reckless as his father. That’s good news._

There was a knock at the door. Roy spun around in time to see Hawkeye enter, a leaflet of papers under her arm. She looked first at his desk, which was piled high with unfinished work, and then back at him, a frown marring her face.

“Sir, what  _have_  you been doing?” she asked, annoyance and a tinge of a threat laced behind her question.

He looked back out the window one last time. The boys were back to doing what they did best: digging for diamonds and other riches, innocent smiles placed soundly on their faces. Roy smirked.

“Our son really does have awful taste in friends. I’m afraid this one might be a keeper.”

Hawkeye simply smiled.


End file.
